Song Zhiyin fixed her gaze on Ji Ping’an’s back.

  It seemed that little cousin had also realized the crucial point—that the Princess needed a target to vent her anger on—so she didn’t rush to expin that the embroidery wasn’t her gift.

  In contrast, Xu Keqing had been far too eager to perform in front of the Princess, overstepping her bounds.

  Everyone knew, even if unspoken, what exactly had provoked the Princess—the sachet. But no one dared to bring it up explicitly in front of her.

  This was supposed to be a joyful birthday banquet, yet now it had descended into chaos. The Princess, already tormented by illness and living a life worse than death, likely wished she could throw everyone involved into prison—or even have them executed.

  Still, as much as Ji Ping’an might be at fault, the one who dared to use her, using the Princess herself as a pawn, was even more detestable.

  The Princess asked Ji Ping’an coldly, “Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

  Ji Ping’an knelt on the stone-paved courtyard. The night was bitterly cold, and the chill seeped through her knees and into her entire body.

  She replied, “Your Highness, may this common girl be permitted to examine the box and the sachet?”

  The Princess nodded.

  The steward immediately had both items brought over.

  Ji Ping’an lifted her head. Her legs were already numb, but she forced herself to remain focused and alert as she inspected the items closely.

  If she failed to find the true culprit, she would have no choice but to bear the full brunt of the Princess’s wrath.

  The gift registry had listed her with the code name “Third Song,” marking her as the third young dy of the Song household, representing not just herself, but the entire Song family.

  If one flourishes, all flourish. If one falls, all fall.

  Song Zhiyin and Song Zhishu both understood this principle well. Without another word, they carefully shifted closer to Ji Ping’an and began inspecting the box and sachet alongside her, searching for any fw, any clue that might reveal the one behind this scheme.

  Ji Ping’an examined the box—used to hold the gift—which had been prepared by her household. Once gifts were submitted, the staff would register them, then paste a red bel bearing a code name (like “Third Song”) on the box, for record-keeping.

  Normally, all daughters of the same family would submit their gifts together, even if they handed them over one after another. The boxes would be grouped for easier tracking.

  Since Ji Ping’an had presented her gift after Zhiyin and Zhishu, she was assigned “Third Song.”

  Now that her bel had ended up on Song Zhishu’s box, it was clear it had been tampered with.

  Ji Ping’an rotated the box slightly and—sure enough—spotted two traces of glue marks where red bels had previously been stuck.

  Most likely, someone had accidentally knocked off the bel—maybe their clothes brushed it or it loosened—and when reattaching it, they got the boxes mixed up and stuck “Third Song” onto the wrong box.

  But even clearing up this confusion wouldn’t help her now.

  The most important thing was to quell the Princess’s rage.

  Ji Ping’an reached out and brought the sachet to her nose.

  Song Zhishu stared at her, utterly clueless about the items in question.

  Song Zhiyin, meanwhile, carefully observed everyone else’s expressions.

  Their little cousin had just arrived in the capital a few days ago. She hadn’t offended anyone yet. And the embroidery was clearly prepared by Zhishu.

  Which meant the real target of this whole scheme wasn’t Ji Ping’an—it was Song Zhishu and the Song family. Ji Ping’an had just been caught in the crossfire.

  If someone bore a grudge against the Song family…

  Zhiyin’s gaze slid toward Zhou Pingping’s group. After all, it was Xu Keqing—one of their clique—who had jumped in earlier.

  But Xu Keqing was a fool. It didn’t necessarily mean Zhou Pingping had pnned it.

  Of course, it might also be someone from Zhan Luying’s circle.

  “Your Highness,” Ji Ping’an spoke steadily, “this sachet is made with rose, peach blossom, pear blossom, and eupatorium. The ingredients are quite ordinary.”

  After all, it was made for framing someone, not as a thoughtful gift.

  “But aside from these,” she continued, “there are faint traces of other scents—specifically astragalus, rehmannia, morinda, eucommia, and epimedium. These are all medicinal herbs.”

  “Which are for what purpose?” Song Zhiyin chimed in helpfully.

  “To nourish the kidneys and strengthen the body,” Ji Ping’an answered. “Mostly used to treat male impotence.”

  Yes—impotence.

  A disease men get, not women.

  “From the level of contamination,” Ji Ping’an said, “I estimate that the person who stored this sachet had been taking this medicine for at least three or four years. Likely kept the sachet on his person, close to his body—hence the lingering scent.”

  Ji Ping’an lifted the red bel from the box. One side was red, the other wasn’t.

  And since it had fallen off and been reapplied, whoever did it would’ve handled it with bare hands, likely leaving a fingerprint.

  She flipped it over. “Your Highness, there are two distinct fingerprints here—both from right index fingers. One is likely from the steward who beled it. The other? Almost certainly from the culprit. If we compare these prints and cross-reference with those who’ve been taking these medicines for years, we’ll find our man. Then interrogate him and uncover who orchestrated this.”

  With the number of people coming and going from the Princess’s estate today—from servants to entertainers—it was difficult to determine if the perpetrator was someone from within. However, the use of medication ruled out any woman being directly responsible for the crime. After three to four years of treatment, this further narrowed down the list of potential suspects. With fingerprints collected, uncovering the truth was just a matter of time.

  The Princess gave the steward a sharp look. He immediately began organizing a search.

  About a stick of incense ter, someone mentioned that Mali Shui, the man who emptied kitchen slop buckets, had been taking herbal medicines, but never expined what for.

  The steward rushed to Mali Shui’s quarters and turned up several unboiled prescriptions.

  Doctor Yan Xishan examined them and confirmed they were for impotence and kidney deficiency.

  The steward went to arrest Mali Shui.

  Shortly after, he returned, hunched and pale, and knelt before the Princess.

  “Your Highness, we’ve found someone matching Miss Ji’s description, and the fingerprint matches.”

  Everyone stared at him, waiting.

  Song Zhiyin’s eyes stayed on both Zhan Luying’s and Zhou Pingping’s groups.

  Zhan Luying was as calm as ever, not even blinking. Zhou Pingping, however, was jittery, as always.

  The Princess said coldly, “Bring him here.”

  “…Your Highness,” the steward hesitated. “He’s dead.”

  “What insolence!” the Princess roared. “Who dares kill in my estate?!”

  The steward replied, “Your Highness, the body was found in the lotus pond. Based on Doctor Yan’s assessment, he’s been dead for at least an hour.”

  So he’d died not long after the banquet began.

  The Princess trembled with fury. Someone had not only framed someone at her banquet, but also silenced a witness.

  So bold, so brazen—did they take her for an old, sick fool?

  As the Princess’s anger mounted, Song Zhiyin quickly spoke up. “Your Highness, murder is a grave offense. And to commit it inside the Princess’s own residence? Outrageous. This criminal must not be spared. I propose we hand this case over to Kaifeng Prefect. Let the officials there give your household the justice it deserves.”

  Once it entered the court’s hands, Ji Ping’an would become a key witness. No matter how angry the Princess was, she wouldn’t be able to touch her for now.

  Just then, Sun Chengying—daughter of the Imperial Guard Commander and a member of Zhan Luying’s clique—spoke up.

  “Criminal investigations are under Kaifeng’s jurisdiction, yes. But not every case gets solved there. Are we to allow someone who disrupted Her Highness’s birthday banquet to remain unpunished until the investigation ends?”

  Song Zhiyin gave Zhan Luying a frosty gre.

  Zhan Luying knelt perfectly straight, as if she hadn’t heard a thing, and certainly not stopping Sun Chengying.

  Zhou Pingping quickly chimed in, “Miss Sun makes a good point. Your Highness, why not set a deadline? If Kaifeng Prefect fails to solve the case within the given time, those who deserve punishment should be dealt with immediately. I think three days sounds just right.”

  Song Zhishu snapped, “If it’s a deadline, shouldn’t we at least consult Kaifeng Prefect first? Miss Zhou, are you being deliberately harsh because you don’t want the truth to come out—or do you simply look down on Kaifeng’s investigators?”

  Zhou Pingping snorted, “The Song family is full of silver tongues. Always twisting words, always pying tricks.”

  “That’s enough.” The Princess lifted her hand to her forehead—her illness was fring again.

  In the end, the Princess agreed to have the case handed over to Kaifeng Prefect.

  After all, a murder in Bianjing had to be officially processed through Kaifeng, as per the w.

  Deputy Magistrate Bao Shichang soon arrived with his constables after hearing the news.

  Upon learning the case involved the Song family, Song Huaiyu also hurried over.

  Eventually, under Bao Shichang’s suggestion, it was decided that the Kaifeng Prefect would have half a month to resolve the case. Song Huaiyu was instructed to escort both Ji Ping’an and the body back with him.

  Once outside the Princess’s estate, Dongchun came rushing over after getting the news. She tried to push past the guards, sobbing uncontrolbly.

  Song Huaiyu raised his hand, allowing her through.

  Dongchun immediately grasped Ji Ping’an’s hand, tears streaming down her face. “Miss, how did things get to this? How did you end up caught in a murder case? What do we do now?”

  Saying this, she dropped to her knees before Song Huaiyu. “Second Young Master, please save her. I beg you, please save my miss!”

  “Don’t worry,” Song Huaiyu replied. “I’ll do everything I can.”

  But he knew all too well—the most difficult part of this case wasn’t discovering who killed Mali Shui, or even uncovering the mastermind. The real challenge was figuring out how to appease the Princess, to get her to forgive Ji Ping’an. Because even if they cleared her of guilt, Her Highness’s fury would not be so easily dismissed. And while death might be avoided, punishment would still follow.

  Ji Ping’an understood this perfectly.

  She was just exhausted.

  This wretched world, where even if you were innocent from start to finish, even if the truth was on your side, you still got punished. What justice was that?

  She pulled Dongchun to her feet. “Don’t cry.”

  Ji Ping’an wiped the maid’s tears away, then drew her into a quiet embrace, gently patting her shoulder. In a hushed voice near Dongchun’s ear, she said, “No matter the cost, find a way to get Yan Xishan to see me. Don’t trust anyone else. No one.”

  Then she let go and gave Dongchun a tired smile before turning to follow Song Huaiyu away.

  Thankfully, with Song Huaiyu’s presence, Ji Ping’an wasn’t bound in chains like a criminal. But she was still taken to prison.

  The prison was located underground, requiring her to descend dozens of stone steps to reach it. Unlike the clean and spacious dungeons portrayed on television, the real prison was dark, damp, narrow, and had low ceilings. There was no bed, only a small cy ptform. A tiny window provided no light at night and likely very little during the day.

  By Ji Ping’an’s rough estimate, the cell was no more than 1.5 meters wide and 2 meters long.

  Just spending one day in here… she’d need a year to recover emotionally.

  And this—this was Song Huaiyu doing her a favor. She had been given a single cell. On her way in, she noticed that other prisoners were crammed two or three into one.